


brought to light

by walkthegale



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: The first time Beau pushes Yasha up against a wall, Yasha lets her.“Beau is the type where she's going to respect someone who takes a physical action, or who has some sort of dominant upper hand because Beau likes to be dominant. Sometimes you like being put in check, because then you're like... ‘I respect that.’ I think Beau needed that.”- Marisha Ray, Talks Machina, episode 63





	brought to light

The first time Beau pushes Yasha up against a wall, she feels Yasha’s muscles tense under her hands and knows Yasha could break her hold in less than a second if she chose to. There’s something deeply intoxicating about that, all that power held in her grip, pliant and willing and Beau’s to command.

It’s amazing how many places you can find in a city to be alone if you really want to, if you know the streets well. This time it’s a courtyard that’s technically on Cobalt Soul land, but Beau is pretty sure no one comes here, at least not on a warm summer night when there are so many better places to be.

Beau nudges Yasha’s head to the side, buries her face in Yasha’s neck, and there are no better places to be than right here, with Yasha held fast between her and the rough stone wall, in this quiet corner of a noisy city that belongs just to them. There’s a deep scar that cuts across Yasha’s collarbone, stark white even against Yasha’s pale skin, and Beau moves her tunic to uncover it, runs her tongue along the length of it and feels Yasha’s shiver run through both their bodies.

Yasha shifts, and Beau leans her full weight against her, one hand on each of Yasha’s upper arms, pushing her backwards again. “Did I say you could move?” she murmurs, her mouth close to Yasha’s ear, before nipping at the soft skin underneath, hard enough that she knows she’ll leave a mark. She wants to see that tomorrow morning - she wants Yasha to feel it and think of her. Yasha makes a soft noise, shifts again in Beau’s hold but still doesn’t break it, doesn’t push too hard.

Beau looks up and there is Yasha, looking down at her, her eyes wide and dark, and her lips slightly parted, and every thought in Beau’s head is replaced by how fucking hot Yasha looks right now. She leans in and kisses her hard, and as she does, Yasha’s thigh slides between her legs and it’s Beau who makes a noise this time, half gasp, half groan into Yasha’s mouth.

She kisses her like they’re the only people in the world, until they’re both breathless and Beau can feel Yasha’s hips moving against her. She lets go of her hold on one of Yasha’s arms, nominally keeping her in place with the other, a bright and fine fiction that neither of them seems keen to deny right now. Slipping her free hand between their bodies, without breaking their kiss, Beau feels her way down Yasha’s abs, taut and quivering just a little at her touch, and then under the waist of Yasha’s pants, and further down, where she finds damp curls, and then slick, perfect heat.

Beau’s fingertips brush over Yasha’s clit and, _damn_ , Beau has never heard a sound as good as the one Yasha makes. As the sound that she, Beauregard, has made Yasha make. She decides right then that she’ll do anything, whatever it takes, to hear that sound again.

It doesn’t take much right now. Yasha, Beau is learning, is not quiet when Beau touches her. Yasha, who talks so little, whose feelings so often go unsaid, finds her voice when Beau’s fingers slide deep inside her, when Beau’s thumb draws circles around her clit, when Beau sets up a firm, steady rhythm that draws Yasha out of herself. Beau wonders briefly if this is anything like how Yasha feels when she’s fighting - she isn’t quiet then either.

They’re still kissing, sort of - it’s more that Yasha’s moaning against Beau’s lips, her tone getting higher and more strained, rising almost to a whimper when Beau twists and curls her fingers inside her. Yasha’s moving against her now, making it hard for her to keep her place, but Beau is really fucking good at this, that much she knows, and she holds the pace, holds her pressure, keeps on stroking exactly where Yasha needs her to.

And Yasha tips over the edge, crying out loud enough as she comes that it flashes through Beau’s mind that they might get caught. Which would almost be awesome, except that she really doesn’t want to spend another night locked up.

The thought is fleeting, because Yasha’s thigh is still pressed between Beau’s legs, and Yasha is still making breathless little noises, her face now hidden in Beau’s shoulder, and Beau is pretty sure if she could just find the right angle… yes… just _there_ , and fuck she was so close already, and Yasha was so hot just now, and _Beau_ made her come, and her fingers are still inside her - she can still feel Yasha’s little fluttering aftershocks around them. It barely takes a moment’s work for Beau to come, grinding down against Yasha’s thigh, with a gasp and a series of colourful curses on her lips.

When finally they let each other go, when Beau stands up straight and releases her grasp on Yasha’s arm and they stop pretending that Yasha couldn’t have moved any time she wanted to, Beau wants to say something cool. Something sexy and suave to prove just how calm and in-control she is.

What happens instead is that she can’t stop herself grinning, especially when she realises that Yasha is smiling back, that even in the darkness she can see that Yasha’s cheeks are flushed and her clothes are as rumpled as Beau’s own must be.

She finally gathers herself enough to stand on her toes and press a kiss to Yasha’s forehead. “We’ll, uh, we’ll do that again,” she says, hoping it comes out like a statement, not a question.

“I would like that,” Yasha replies, and Beau just keeps grinning like an idiot because _fuck_ yes.

They make their way back through the half-dark of the city night together, Beau’s arm around Yasha’s waist, and Yasha’s hand warm and heavy on Beau’s shoulder.

***

The second time Beau pushes Yasha up against a wall, Yasha breaks her hold.

Yasha took a room of her own at the inn when they arrived, with a mumbled explanation about needing some space that Beau is pretty sure absolutely no one bought.

The Mighty Nein had run into a fight, a tough one, and then another, and then there was celebratory drink or two and a near miss with a tavern brawl, and by the time the door of Yasha’s room closes behind the two of them, Beau feels like she could take on the whole damn world. She launches herself at Yasha, their mouths crashing together, backing her up against the door behind them, and Yasha kisses her back just as fiercely.

Beau presses herself into Yasha’s body, planting one hand on each of Yasha’s shoulders, holding her there, with a feral grin made up of every dirty thought she’s been having for the last few hours.

Yasha grins back, her eyes narrowed, and Beau barely has time to wonder what that expression means before Yasha’s muscles flex under her hands and in a fluid motion, Yasha flips their positions entirely - Beau’s back knocks into the wooden door, one of Yasha’s hands wrapped around both her wrists, pinning them in place above her head.

A shudder of shock and delight runs through Beau’s entire body. She looks up at Yasha, her eyes wide.

Yasha stops where she is and meets Beau’s gaze. “Is this ok?” she asks, and there’s a note of hesitation in her voice.

Beau can only nod at first, but Yasha seems to want more from her than that. “Uh,” she scrambles for coherency. “Yeah! Fuck, uh, yeah, this is very ok.”

She has hardly finished the sentence before Yasha’s mouth is back on her own, kissing her with a desperate hunger that Beau matches beat for beat. She can’t move far in any direction, her wrists held tight in Yasha’s hand, Yasha’s body trapping her thoroughly, so she strains into her confinement, pushing herself against Yasha, leaning up and into the kiss as best she can.

Yasha runs her free hand down the length of Beau’s side, starting at her elbow and trailing over the hair under her arm, down her ribs, finding the bare skin where her clothes don’t meet at her midriff and lingering there for a time. Beau takes the opportunity to tug Yasha’s bottom lip between her teeth, eliciting a sound almost like a growl from Yasha, who swiftly moves her roving hand around to Beau’s ass, grabbing and pulling Beau even closer against her.

Beau knows a good moment when she sees one. She trusts herself to Yasha’s strength and her own dexterity, lifting both her feet off the floor at once and wrapping her legs tight around Yasha’s waist. And Yasha reacts instantly, catching her, one arm under her ass, and the other dropping from her wrists to support her back, somehow ending up underneath Beau’s clothes, her hand splayed flat against Beau’s skin.

She’ll have to work a little harder to catch Yasha off-guard, but right now Yasha isn’t giving her the chance to - she has caught Beau’s mouth again with her own and the kiss is deep and messy and intense and it takes all of Beau’s attention. She hardly notices Yasha’s wandering hands until Yasha breaks away from her for just a second, just long enough for Beau to whimper at the sudden loss, but also just long enough to tug Beau’s shirt over her head. She meets Beau’s gaze and holds it while she unwinds the strip of fabric from around Beau’s chest, dropping it to the floor and lowering her head to nuzzle at the tops of Beau’s breasts.

Yasha’s tunic is rough against Beau’s newly bared skin and Beau works at the laces with nimble fingers, has them mostly untied in no time. She clings tight to Yasha as Yasha lets go of her hold long enough to shrug the tunic off her shoulders. There’s an awkward moment while they arrange their limbs as best they can, but between them they manage to remove Yasha’s breast band too, without Beau touching the ground.

Beau gives Yasha an enthusiastic celebratory kiss, and then it sinks in that she can feel Yasha’s bare breasts against her own chest, soft and amazing, and gods, she knows she’s wet already and she wants more - more touch, more of Yasha, more than this right fucking _now_.

As if she knows Beau’s thoughts, or perhaps because she hears the beginnings of frustration in the sounds Beau makes against her mouth, Yasha crosses the room in a few easy strides, carrying Beau as though she weighs no more than Yasha’s greatsword, which, Beau contemplates vaguely, is possibly true.

Yasha lays her down on the bed, and Beau makes a brief attempt to sit up, to flip Yasha over and beneath her, but Yasha isn’t having any of it. She smiles that mysterious, wicked smile again and holds Beau easily in place with one hand, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Ok?” Yasha asks again, but this time she sounds less hesitant - she knows what the answer will be, but she wants Beau to say it.

Beau looks up at Yasha, leaning over her, naked from the waist up, her lips swollen with kissing, and how much she wants Beau visible in every line of her body. Beau takes a moment to admire her - from the sharp planes of her cheekbones, to the flawless definition of her abs, to her breasts… This isn’t the first time she’s seen Yasha’s breasts, but they’re fucking fantastic and each time feels like a revelation. She thinks she could probably keep looking at them forever, except that she’d also like to touch them.

She says the only thing she can think of, her voice hoarse with desire. “Please.”

Yasha’s body covers her own, and Beau gets lost in her, in touches and kisses and and the warm, delicious weight of her. She finds one of Yasha’s breasts with her mouth, tastes clean, salt sweat, feels Yasha’s nipple harden against her tongue and enjoys the low moan it draws from her. Yasha says something, quietly, and it sounds… it sounds almost like she’s singing, until Beau realises she’s speaking in Celestial.

When Yasha moves down Beau’s torso, kissing and nipping and _fuck_ that one will leave a bruise tomorrow, Beau lifts her hips so that Yasha can pull her pants and underwear down and off, leaving her completely naked for Yasha to see.

Yasha parts Beau’s legs with one hand and settles herself between them, and Beau finds she has lost any remaining urge she might have had to take charge of this situation now that Yasha’s hands are firm about her thighs, and Yasha’s breath is warm where it touches her. Yasha says something in Celestial again, that this time sounds a little like a prayer, a devotion, and she bends her head as Beau arches her hips up to meet her.

The first swipe of Yasha’s tongue chases any remaining thoughts from Beau’s mind. Yasha is quick to learn, Beau has discovered, and she is already learning Beau well - her mouth seems to find exactly the places Beau most wants it to be, teasing her just enough, then hitting just the right speed and pressure and Beau can barely breathe. She listens to Beau’s sounds, feels out the way she moves, until Beau is a creature made entirely of wanting, of rapidly building pleasure and need and desire. Yasha’s mouth is _everything_ , licking and tasting and sucking and she murmurs another hum of beautiful Celestial against Beau’s cunt between long, even strokes, and suddenly it’s too much, Beau feels her body tense, feels herself on the very edge of a precipice. And Yasha knows, her grip tightens on Beau’s thighs, and she draws Beau’s clit into her mouth and releases it, finds her rhythm again, and brings Beau’s orgasm crashing through her in a brilliant and boundless rush that has her seeing stars.

Completely and utterly spent, Beau collapses boneless against the pillows and tries to catch her breath. It takes a while before she can even think, let alone speak. As she begins to recover a little of herself, she looks down to where Yasha has rested her head on her thigh and is looking up at her. Yasha’s expressions are so often unreadable, but this one is undoubtedly fond, and Beau finds herself almost blushing, which feels ridiculous given their current situation.

She gestures vaguely but Yasha gets what she means and moves back up the bed to join her, giving her a lazy kiss that tastes like herself. Yasha enfolds Beau in her arms and for a little while, Beau drifts, safe and comfortable.

After a time, she nudges Yasha gently. “What were you saying?” she asks her. “When you were... you know?”

Yasha’s face is absolutely serious. “Something filthy,” she says.

Beau snickers. “Is it even possible to say filthy shit in Celestial?”

“You will have to learn it and find out.”

Beau resolves, then and there, that that’s what she’ll do. And then she’ll surprise Yasha with it at the worst possible moment.

In this moment, however, there are other things to do. She sits up and swings her leg over so she’s straddling Yasha’s hips.

“My turn,” she says, gleefully, and Yasha laughs.


End file.
